Without a Season, Lady Isolde Worthingham captured the Duke of Moore’s heart at a country dance. But on the eve of her wedding, a scandal that rocked the ton and sent her fleeing to Scotland alone and unwed, leaves her perfectly planned future in a tangle of disgrace and heartbreak.

Merrick Mountshaw, the Duke of Moore loathes the pitiful existence he hides from the ton. With a scandalous wife he never wanted, who flaunts her many indiscretions, life is a never-ending parade of hell. When the one woman he loved and lost returns to London, he knows he can no longer live without her.

But vows and past hurts are not easily forgotten. Love may not win against the ton when a too proper Lord and Lady play by the rules.

Excerpt:

“I’ve lost him.
And I love him still.” Her voice broke at the realization.

Her mother
shushed her, pulling her into an embrace. “I know, darling. I know you do. But
there is nothing for it now. You will have to return with us to Dunsleigh.”

Isolde thought
of all she had lost, not just Merrick, but her future, their plans. Their trip
away to the Continent, Paris, Rome, and all the delightful places in between
that they were going to visit, crumbled in her chest like her heart. “He’s
really going to marry her, isn’t he?” Even saying such a thing sounded absurd,
and yet it was the truth. The truth as she would know it from tonight onward.

“Yes, he is.”
Her mother’s face was a mask of concern and pain. “I’m so sorry, darling. You
did not deserve this.”

Isolde strove to
calm down before her sobs woke her sisters and they started with their meddling
questions. Her body hiccupped for breath; her eyes, so swollen and sore, hurt
when she blinked.

“Come, you must
sleep.” Her mother helped her stand, and Isolde didn’t fight her decree.
Tiredness would succeed over her mind and, for a sweet moment, she’d forget
what had transpired this night. It was enough to make her lie down and try.

She settled
under the blankets. The maid knocked on the door and her mother ushered her into
the room, taking possession of the glass of whisky and a cold compress. Isolde
downed the drink in one gulp, grateful for the burning amber liquid and the
cooling cloth against her eyes.

The tears
started afresh when the comforting embrace of her mother wrapped around her,
pulling her close and holding her as if to never let her go. Not since she was
a child had her mother acted in such a way, and some of the despair left her,
knowing she had the support of her family.

She would need
them in the months to come.

She took a
shuddering breath. How could a night once filled with so much excitement and
anticipation twist into such despair and horror? Rolling onto her side, the
ring Merrick had given her pressed into her cheek.

She held out her
hand and looked at the cluster of five round diamonds, each of them encased in
a bed of silver and sitting on a band of gold that was etched into a leaflike
pattern. The ring had been Merrick’s grandmother’s, and it had been the most
beautiful gift Isolde had ever received.

But no longer.
Now it represented a fractured circle of trust, pulled apart and unfixable.

She yanked it
off, unable to throw it no matter how much she longed to. She reached over and
placed it on the cabinet beside her bed, looking at it as it twinkled prettily
under the candlelight. The ring and its beauty were as fickle as its owner.

About the Author:

Tamara is an Australian author who grew up in an old mining town in country South Australia, where her love of history was founded. So much so, she made her darling husband travel to the UK for their honeymoon, where she dragged him from one historical monument and castle to another. A mother of three, her two little gentleman in the making, a future lady (she hopes) and a part-time job keep her busy in the real world, but whenever she gets a moment’s peace she loves to write romance novels in an array of genres, including regency, medieval and time travel.